Whumptober 2019 - 30 - Recovery
by DinerGuy
Summary: 2018 reboot. A chase through the woods, a bullet, and an inconveniently placed ravine spell trouble for Magnum. With night setting in, his friends need to get him out. Soon.


_A/N: __With the guys' military connection, the minute I saw this prompt, I thought "recovery mission," and here we are!_

_Standard disclaimers apply._

* * *

"Thomas!"

The sound of his name followed on the heels of the gunshot that rang through the trees, but he didn't have time to process any of it before he felt himself falling.

He smashed into the side of the embankment, feeling everything and nothing all at once. He tumbled head over heels, falling, twisting, turning, rolling over from his stomach to his back to his stomach, falling more… Something was burning in his upper chest, competing with the sharp edges of rocks and the dull impact of glancing off of a tree trunk as he rapidly picked up speed.

His arms pinwheeled, grasping for purchase to halt his descent by snatching a limb or outcropping as he went past. A few times, he felt his hand closing around something firm, but then it was ripped from his grip by his own momentum.

A flash of light exploded behind his eyes as his head hit something hard, and he was unconscious by the time he'd reached the bottom of the steep slope.

* * *

The trip out into the middle of nowhere was supposed to be uneventful. Magnum and Higgins were working a heist case and had discovered the thieves had been going in and out of one particular wooded area of the island. The natural response to the information was, of course, to investigate it further.

They'd even talked Rick and T.C. into joining them, made easier by the fact that one of the victims of the robbery spree was a good friend of Robin's. Between the four of them, finding the secluded cabin where the thieves had stashed the loot was actually easier than expected. It was when they'd heard a noise from outside and discovered the criminals in question had returned that things had gotten sticky.

Which was how Rick and Magnum had found themselves racing through the forest, chasing after one guy while T.C. and Higgins took care of the two others they'd already taken down at the cabin. The fact that the two men were closing in seemed to make the fleeing robber nervous because, in the next moment, he drew a weapon and turned to fire behind him.

The first two shots whizzed past them without doing any harm, but the third caught Magnum in the right shoulder and redirected his forward momentum. It was just enough to send him stumbling to the side—and right over the edge of a gully that cut through the trees.

Rick immediately dropped to one knee and took aim, having drawn his own gun the moment the man had started shooting at them. It took him only a split second to sight down the barrel, anticipate the next steps, and pull the trigger.

His shot reverberated through the air around him, and the hostile shooter went down hard.

Rick forced himself to rush over to make sure the threat was handled before trying to help Thomas. The last thing he needed was the guy managing to haul himself up and shooting him while his back was turned.

The gunman was lying on his back, eyes closed and blood seeping through the side of his shirt. A quick check told Rick the guy was still alive, and he quickly confiscated the gun that lay nearby. It was a pretty sure bet the man wouldn't be waking up any time soon, but Rick wasn't taking any chances.

And then he pushed to his feet and ran for where he'd seen his friend disappear.

Rick pulled up short at the edge of the steep slope, frantically searching for any sign of Thomas. He could see where the underbrush had been smashed and broken and the dirt had been disturbed by something big passing over it—along with noticeable patches of blood in several spots. His eyes followed the signs of his friend's descent to the bottom of the gully, at least several dozen yards below him, and his stomach clenched as his gaze landed on the still form below him.

From where Rick was standing, Thomas appeared to be unconscious. Rick couldn't make out much from so far away, but he knew it couldn't be good. Not if Thomas had already been shot _before _tumbling such a distance.

"Rick!"

He heard familiar voices from behind him, and he let out a relieved sigh as he turned toward his friends who were now hurrying up to join him.

"We heard gunshots, what—Where's Thomas?" T.C. asked, glancing around.

Rick just swallowed and glanced back down the embankment. The others followed his gaze, and he heard their gasps as they took in what had happened.

"It looks pretty shallow," Rick supplied, glancing from them back to Thomas. He was already mapping out a route down the slope. "We should be able to get to him."

There was a brief pause, then T.C. voiced the concern that was already playing through Rick's mind. "It's already late, and it's gonna get cold once night falls."

"Well, then, we have no time to waste," Jules replied. "We might as well split up. One of us needs to go call for help because we can't move him with the chance of a neck or back injury."

Rick nodded along with T.C., frustrated that they would have to wait—that Thomas would have to wait—for one of them to get back down the trail to call for help. If they'd had cell phone service, this would all be much simpler, but they hadn't had a signal since they'd turned off of the main road to enter the wooded area. There was no way they could call for help without someone driving back down, which wasted valuable time. Thomas needed help right away; there was no telling what injuries he'd sustained from the fall.

"I'll go," Jules offered without waiting for a reply, turning even as she threw the statement over her shoulder to them.

T.C. gave Rick a quick glance, then started after Higgins. "I'll come with you and get the first aid kit from the car. And I'll check if there's anything inside that can help us."

As they sprinted off side by side, Rick turned to start down the slope. He stumbled once or twice, tripping over a root and slipping before managing to catch himself on a tree trunk. About three-quarters of the way down, he hit a particularly loose patch of earth and landed on his rear end, sliding the rest of the way to the bottom of the ravine. But he didn't stop to check how badly bruised he was, he just scrambled to his feet and rushed the rest of the way over to Thomas's still form.

Rick gulped out a sigh of relief as he felt his friend's pulse and saw the slow up-and-down of his chest. It wasn't the strongest pulse or the most steady breathing pattern, but at least both were there. "Thomas?" he called gently, watching the other man's face for any sign of consciousness. "Tommy, can you hear me?"

There was no response, though, and Rick clenched his jaw. He didn't like the look of the gash on Thomas's head, the source of the blood smeared along the left side of his friend's face. Rick knew head wounds bled a lot, but this was bad even for that.

Then there was the bullet wound in Thomas's right shoulder, just above his bicep, that was still bleeding steadily. Rick quickly continued his examination, spotting few damaged ribs and what would probably end up being severe bruising in multiple places, most likely from the impacts from tumbling down the slope. He also suspected a fractured right wrist, based on the swelling that was already rising, and Thomas's left knee didn't look much better.

Rick swallowed and pulled off his shirt to wad up against his friend's shoulder. Everything else needed attention, but this was the most urgent. He had to stop the bleeding—or at least slow it—until help arrived. He knew there was no way they could get Thomas to help on their own, not unless T.C. managed to find a neck brace and a backboard in the cabin, so he needed to do everything he could to help in the meantime.

"Come on, T.M.," he coaxed, feeling his heart sink when the pressure against the injured man's bleeding shoulder didn't even draw a gasp of a response. "You got this. Just hang in there."

Rick wasn't sure how much time had passed before he heard rustling above him and glanced up to see T.C. descending the side of the gully to join them. His arms were full of supplies, and Rick breathed a sigh of relief. He watched as T.C. nearly took a spill of his own coming down the slope, but the bigger man managed to keep his footing and was soon dropping the supplies on the ground next to the others.

While T.C. spread a metallic emergency blanket over Thomas's legs, Rick let up on his ruined t-shirt to replace it with a towel. The cloth wasn't as large or as thick as he would have liked, but it was something, and it did a better job at soaking up the blood than the thin linen shirt had been doing.

And that was how Juliet found them some time later, a rescue team on her heels. Neither Rick nor T.C. had been able to rouse Thomas, who was even more pale now that over an hour had passed since his fall. T.C. had splinted the injured wrist and was talking to his friend, trying to wake him, while Rick was still keeping steady pressure on Thomas's shoulder.

The emergency workers quickly rushed down the slope to join the three men at the bottom, toting their equipment with them. T.C. and Rick moved back to give them room to work, then scrambled to help move the backboard down the ravine a short way to where the incline was less sharp and easier to get the injured man up.

Higgins was right there beside them the moment they reached level ground again, worry clearly displayed across her face as she took in the limp form on the stretcher.

It wasn't until they were nearly back at the vehicles that Thomas stirred, groaning as his eyes slowly blinked open.

"Hey, it's okay, Tommy. We're right here," Rick, who was at the left corner nearest to Thomas's head, quickly spoke up.

"Rick? What…" A cough interrupted the question, and Magnum winced at the movement.

Rick gave his friend an encouraging smile. "Shh, it's okay. We got you."

With a tiny nod, Thomas closed his eyes and swallowed, and Rick felt himself sighing in relief. He glanced over at Jules, who had a similar expression to the one he knew he had himself—and that T.C., just a step ahead of him, most likely had too.

They'd nearly lost their friend—again—but they hadn't. They'd gotten him back, they were going to get him to help, and he would make a full recovery. And they would be right by his side while he did.

* * *

_Fin._


End file.
